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Writing Prompt: I sometimes defer to writing prompts to kickstart my imagination. In addition, I create writing prompts that I share on Writing Wednesday, Pinterest, Instagram, and Facebook. Sometimes, I can’t stop after I’ve come up with a prompt that I particularly enjoy, so I go ahead and write a flash fiction piece about it. In this instance, I even changed the point of view, since I prefer third person. Sometimes I use writing prompts as an exercise on my weak skills, like writing in first person, but I wanted more entertainment this time, so I went with my strength.
The Prompt: As I lay in bed awake, I heard voices from downstairs. No one should be here. I carefully tiptoe down the hall, grabbing a broom on the way. No one was supposed to know where I live anymore. Crash. Who on earth would want to bother me in the middle of the night… and why were they making such an obvious racket?
As Gale lay awake in bed, he swore he heard voices downstairs. No one should be here. Moving carefully, he tiptoed down the hall, grabbing a broom from the closet. It wasn’t much, but if he were caught, he’d be screwed.
How had someone found him? No one was supposed to know where he lived anymore. Crash. Gale froze as something smashed in the kitchen below. Why would anyone bother him in the middle of the night? And why were they making so much noise if they were out to get him?
Listening carefully, he continued down the hallway. He couldn’t hear any footsteps but didn’t want to be surprised. He crept down the stairs one by one, avoiding the squeaky step near the bottom. Once on the first floor, adrenaline surged. Whoever was there could be hiding anywhere.
Step by step, Gale made his way to the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly on the run, but some very unpleasant people weren’t happy about his unpaid loans. Gale had tried to work out a payment plan but fled to this two-story house just in case. No one should know where he was.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he approached the kitchen. A small window was slightly open, and a broken plate lay on the floor. The small TV in the corner was on, but otherwise, nothing seemed out of place. He circled the kitchen to ensure no one could sneak out, then locked the window and turned off the TV.
Another crash nearby startled him, and he accidentally sliced his foot on the broken plate. Wincing, Gale pulled out a ceramic shard from his foot, then crept toward the next room, trying to stay quiet.
Peeking into the living room, Gale spotted a flicker of movement and quickly pulled back into the kitchen. After a few deep breaths, he pushed himself to move forward, cautiously entering the seemingly empty living room. A lamp was knocked over but hadn’t broken.
His foot was bleeding onto the carpet, but there was no time to bandage it. Gale crouched low, the broom by his side, and slowly approached the couch where he had seen the shadow. Rounding the corner, he swung the broom at… nothing. The room was empty.
He took another deep breath, listening. The electrical hum of the outlets filled the silence, along with the faint sound of the refrigerator. But no intruders.
Gale retraced his steps back to the kitchen, wrapped a towel around his foot, and secured it with a rubber band from the junk drawer. He checked the window again—it was still locked.
His breaths were becoming shaky. Someone had to be in the house. Plates didn’t just fall on their own. But why would an intruder only knock over a plate? Was this how professional hitmen worked?
Another crash came from upstairs. Gale climbed the stairs nervously, wondering if the noise was a diversion. He didn’t know much about the people he owed money to, but he doubted they’d kill him for $2,000. Would they?
As he reached the top of the stairs, a shadow moved again. It came from his bedroom and drifted toward the guest room. Gale hurried to his room, desperate to grab his phone. To his horror, he saw a message from his loan provider: “As of today, consider your loan paid in full.”
His stomach dropped. Were they really here to kill him? His heart raced, and he considered hiding and calling the police. But would they help him? He had a criminal record. A petty criminal, yes, but still. Would they even come?
Before he could decide, another message arrived: “Gale – I paid your tab. Next time, just come to me. I’m your brother. We’ll work out how you can pay me back later. Please stop with the petty theft and stick around.”
Gale stared at the text. If Harold had really paid off his loan, was the earlier message real? And if his debt was settled, who was in the house?
A light thumping sound from the door brought Gale back to the present. Someone was gently pushing against the door, but it caught on the chair he’d wedged against it. Gale froze, fear gripping him.
Mrreow.
Gale blinked, confused. Could it be that simple?
He wasn’t one for boldness but had made recent promises to turn his life around. Hope stronger than fear surged through him. In one swift motion, he moved the chair, swung the door open, and pointed the broom at… a cat.
A black cat, gazing up at him with piercing yellow eyes, was sitting in the hallway. Gale let out a breath, the tension slowly releasing. The cat weaved between his legs, brushing against him.
Gale sighed, deciding to take action. He flipped on all the lights and searched every room in the house. Aside from the broken plate and his own bloody trail, nothing was out of place. No one else was there.
Exhausted, Gale sat at the kitchen table, eyeing the black cat, now perched by the sink, swiping at a glass. Gale stood and quickly moved all the dishes into the cabinets. If this was his cousin’s house, he didn’t want to owe Harold even more than the $2,000 because of a cat.
As the morning light filtered through the windows, Gale looked up to see the black cat sitting outside on the kitchen windowsill. Sighing, he opened the door, and the cat slipped inside, this time with a mewling litter of kittens in tow.
“Ah, a family,” Gale mused. “I could use a family right about now, Shadow. And I think you’re the perfect fit.”
He made a bed of towels for the kittens and their mother, whom he had named Shadow. From that day forward, Shadow and her kittens became part of Gale’s life, though her dark form still sometimes startled him when she crept out of the shadows at night.
B.R. Quinn 